


The Weight of Love

by Processpending



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Belly Kink, Feeding, Feeding Kink, M/M, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 16:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16066925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Processpending/pseuds/Processpending
Summary: Post RoTK, Aragorn is beginning to soften after being laid up with an injury, much to Legolas' delight. Or the story of how Aragorn came to accept his softening body and Legolas helps soften him up a little more.





	1. A Tunic Fit For a King

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning in case you missed the tags: This story involves weight gain and characters who REALLY like it. It also involves M/M. If these aren't for you, please utilize the back button located on your device. If you won't resist the urge to flame, please be creative. I'm talking I want Robin Williams in The Dead Poet Society level insults here.  
> To the rest of you: I appreciate criticism, this is the first fic I'm sharing so please share your thoughts.  
> For the sake of this story, Aragorn and Arwen were never an item. Legolas and Aragorn have been married prior to the start of the story.
> 
> Sadly, I own nothing, I just borrow Tolkein's characters to play.

Legolas steps into the familiar shop, he’d been there occasionally to buy pipe weed, though he hated the smell. Aragorn, knowing this, was good about smoking it far away from the elf, especially after Legolas complained that the garden, "smells of that disgusting weed." Though he was willing to smell that infernal weed if only to bring a smile back to his husband's face, something that was proving harder to do with each day the ranger was inhibited. It's been six long weeks since Aragorn’s horse had reared up and thrown him, breaking his leg.  Up until now, he'd been limited to hobbling the short distance down to his office and on good days the Hall for meals but this morning the cast had finally come off and Legolas wanted to celebrate.

“Good morrow sir! Be needin’ more pipe weed already?” The shopkeeper behind the counter calls to Legolas as he enters the shop; surprising the elf that he was remembered. ” Legolas grins widely at her as he nods his head.

“He goes through it faster than he cares to admit.” Legolas says, wrinkling his fine nose.

“Don’t let ‘im get inta the drink as well or then you’ll really be in trouble.” She laughs as she gathers the pipe weed. Seeing the confusion on Legolas’ face, she continues, “I take it you haven’t been by the tavern. Men who drink end up with ale bellies.” The woman gestures an arc from herself, demonstrating her point. "Not a thing wrong with it. Lord knows me own Dar has gotten one o’ his own in recent years!" Legolas chuckles, thoroughly amused by the boisterous woman.

Having finished his purchases, Legolas bids the woman a good day and heads back into the street. Fully intending to head back home, however he finds himself turning towards the tavern, intrigued by the woman’s statements. If he was honest, and he’d never be to Aragorn on this point, the man was softening in his age. The taut planes of the man’s stomach that Legolas had so often traced with nimble fingers had been smoothing out more and more over the years. Lately Legolas had enjoyed laying his head on his lover’s chest and running his hand over the small swell that seemed to be growing faster as the man healed from his injury.

Though Legolas doesn't realize it, Aragorn hasn't been oblivious to his expanding waistline, he is very aware of it in fact. The man had been grateful when Legolas announced he would have to miss their mid-morning meeting and wouldn't be joining Aragorn until after lunch. It was just the opportunity he'd been waiting for. Sitting at his desk, rereading the same request for the third time he finds his hand straying down yet again to pluck at the too tight tunic.  _ This is the last time you'll have new tunics made. You'll start today, greens only. No sweets, no ale. This cast has come off and we'll start taking nightly walks. Las will enjoy that, he's enamored with the stars. _ The knocking at the door startles the man out of his rumination.

"Enter." At his call the door opens to reveal the tailor he'd used the past three times he'd needed new tunics made. The man was discreet and showed no reaction to being called, yet again, to prepare new tunics quickly and discreetly.

Knowing the routine well by now, Aragorn rises and crosses to the center of the room, relishing the ease of walking without a cast. From under the tailor's coat a measuring tape is produced, raising his arms parallel to the floor to give the tailor unobstructed access, the tape is  deftly wrapped about the man's waist as Aragorn carefully averts his gaze, not needing a reminder. It's over in a matter of minutes, no notes as years of experience have the numbers safely tucked away.

"Thank you. I appreciate your discretion." Aragorn says, fighting the embarrassment he feels welling inside him.  _ Greens, walks. No one ever need know. _

"It is a pleasure, my grace. I shall have the first of these completed by this evening and sent over. The rest should follow tomorrow?"

"That is more than I had hoped for. I thank you and you will be handsomely paid for your efforts."

~ ~ ~

Legolas' detour has him returning later than he had anticipated; entering Aragorn’s office he’s surprised to find the man picking at a plateful of greens, his mouth twisted in displeasure. _Hopefully this isn’t a new_ _preference._ Legolas is momentarily startled by the sadness that rises at seeing Aragorn without his usual plateful.

"My errand took longer than anticipated, I hope I didn't delay anything?" Legolas inquires, dropping into his usual spot at the desk in front of the stack of waiting papers.

"I'm afraid we've fallen into ruin in your absence." Looking up from the papers he'd been sifting through he finds the man battling a smile and losing terribly.

"I feared that would happen if left to your own devices." Legolas teases, "Though I didn't' think you'd miss me so much as to take up my eating habits." Something flickers in the man's eyes the elf can't decipher, glancing at the picked over plate Aragorn shrugs.

"Wasn't terribly hungry.” The man presses on, hoping to deter any further questions about his eating preferences. “The requests on top are more urgent, the ones on the bottom I just wanted you to review before we send them out." 

With a nod, Legolas settles in to review the requests and orders before him, not noticing when Aragorn scoots himself closer to the desk, trying to conceal the tight tunic.

~ ~ ~

"Estel!" Legolas calls from the bathing chamber having returned to their rooms to prepare for dinner. Not missing a chance to see his husband naked, the man makes his way to the open door, admiring the site before. Legolas' lithe body is submerged in the bath giving the man a devious smile as his knees part the steaming water, opening in invitation. Aragorn's devilish grin falters when his mind whispers that the gorgeous elf will see his softening body.

"If you-" Legolas starts, seeing the flicker in his love's face. Unsure what has the man pause when normally he wouldn't hesitate to join.

"No!" The word is practically barked, but the smile returns. Undressing as he makes his way towards the tub, he tries to push those thoughts from his mind, fearing further questioning. Once he's in the tub, Legolas wraps his arm around his thick chest, drawing the ranger back between his parted legs. 

"Mmmm, I've missed this." His lips close to the man's ear, the steam causing his already unruly hair to curl viciously. Aragorn barely hears the words, his mind fixated on the elf's arms running over his thick sides around to his stomach. The long fingers pause long enough to gently squeeze the roll that he’s noticed begin to curve over the sides of the man’s leggings, before sliding around to cup his belly, made rounder by sitting. Aragorn’s traitorous body responds in the only way it knows to the elf’s wandering hands no matter how he tries to fight it.

"It's been too long."  He finally manages, trying to relish bathing without a cast for the first time in weeks. He knew how dearly the elf loved baths, even more so when he could coax the ranger into joining him. 

"Not today, meleth nin." Legolas says when he feels the man's member nudging the hand he’s rested on the man’s belly. Aragorn had been succeeding in suppressing his body, but the feel of Legolas pressed against him was more than he could control.  _ Of course he doesn't want to have sex with you. Not after he's felt how fat you've gotten. _ The thoughts burn through him so fiercely he can only offer a nod in acknowledgement. If the elf had been facing the man he would've seen the hurt that filled them. If Legolas says anything else the man doesn’t hear it, so consumed within his thoughts. Aragorn waits as long as he can, cataloging each and every new curve of his softening belly before finally rises and grabs the nearest towel; wrapping it around his waist he grimaces at how it barely meets around his hips as his belly laps over the edge.

"I just don't want to cause another injury when you're so recently healed.”  _ I did not mean to upset him so.  _ Legolas thinks, looking worriedly after the man.

“You’re right.” The man’s voice is tight as he tries to reassure the elf. “I just won’t...be able to control myself.” He flashes a true grin before fleeing the bathroom, intent on being dressed before Legolas has a chance to see him naked once more.

Hastily drying off Aragorn grabs a new of pair leggings and begins tugging them on,  _ Salads and walks. _ He repeats to himself as he struggles to get the leggings up, his damp skin only making it harder. Cocking his head to listen and hearing Legolas still occupied,  he sucks in his belly to see the laces.  _ You will not have new leggings made again. These will fit. They fit just fine before you broke your leg. _ Hastily tying them closed he looses his breath and is relieved when they hold and he can still breathe-mostly. 

Opening his wardrobe Aragorn is pleased to find his new tunic already hanging inside, or at least what he assumes is his new tunic. It's the same cut and fabric as his outgrown-newer ones, though he's fairly certain it wasn't there this morning and it's larger than its neighbors. Knowing Legolas will be along any moment Aragorn quickly dons the tunic, a cursory glance in the mirror doesn't assuage his mind. Though it no longer hugs the growing curve of his stomach as the previous one, the looser fabric serves only to make him appear larger in general.

"Ready?" He's startled from his discontent by Legolas' sudden appearance, fingers fixing the last of his braids in place.

"Have I told you I love you?" The ranger crosses the few feet to the surprised elf and takes him in his arms, needing to reassure himself that things are ok between them.

"You should get casts off more often." Legolas jokes, enjoying the feel of his husband pressed against him. Pressing a soft kiss to the elf's kiss, the ranger pulls back, "I thought we might go for a walk after dinner?" The responding grin and kiss is all the answer he needs. Keeping his arm around his husband's narrow waist, he leads them down to dinner.


	2. The Other F Word, Family

When dinner is served, Aragorn is dismayed to see his favorites spread across the table between him and Legolas, the promise of salad looking that much harder to keep. 

“I thought we might celebrate your freedom.” Aragorn can hear the apology in the elf’s words and looks up to see his own dismay mirrored in the fine features. Offering a smile he doesn’t feel, Aragorn tightens his stomach, hoping to muffle the growling.  _ One plate,  _ he bargains with himself, the salad having done little to sate the man. Legolas finds himself watching as the man fills his plate,  _ Mayhaps he doesn’t wish them to visit? Have I done something to upset him? Was it the bath? It's been....since he broke his leg. But we've certainly had fun, it's like when we were first together.  _ Legolas feels himself flush and bites his lip, trying to contain the smile at the memories of their escapades while the man was hindered by the cast. Unfortunately, Aragorn doesn't know the elf was having lustful  thoughts and grows suddenly nervous.

"Las?" The man's question snaps Legolas out of his reverie, unfortunately saying the first thing that comes to mind.

"I'm just glad to see your appetite returned." Aragorn glances down at his plate, resisting the urge to tug at the bottom of his tunic. They fall into the easy conversation that consumes most of their dinners, sharing various parts of their day or revisiting memories. It's this easy conversation that has Aragorn forgetting his silent pledge of only one plate and he's soon heaped his plate full a second, then third, time as their conversation fills his thoughts.

"It is such a lovely night for a walk, Estel. Shall we?" Under the table Legolas runs his hand over his thigh, checking his pocket to make sure the pouch of pipe weed and pipe hadn't fallen out. He'd been worrying over Aragorn's unusual behavior,heightened to every move and word the man said, hoping to determine what was wrong. It's when Aragorn goes to rise that he realizes how full he is, the dinner settling heavy in his empty stomach. 

As they head for the garden, Legolas wraps his arm around the man's waist, "Mmm, it's been  too long since I could do this." Legolas says, feeling the man tense beside him when he wraps his arm around his waist, hand coming to rest on the curve that’s beginning to hang over the man’s leggings.

As they walk the familiar paths through the garden Aragorn can't help admire his handsome husband, A small smile plays at the elf's lips as he takes in all the sounds the night brings with her. Seeing the man watching him from the corner of his eye Legolas turns his smile on him, stealing the man’s breath.  _ I don't deserve you,  _ the thought feels like a punch to the gut, so unexpected and painful Aragorn would’ve stopped if Legolas’ arm hadn’t pulled him along. It’s then he vows to himself that he would be worthy once more of Legolas; even if that means only greens for the rest of his days. 

Knowing Legolas would walk all night, eyes in the stars if the man let him, Aragorn stops them at one of the benches along the path. Legolas remains standing, smiling down at his confused husband. "I have a surprise for you." With that, he pulls the man's pipe from his pocket along with the small pouch of pipe weed.

"When did you? Hannon le!" Legolas settles himself on the bench as the man prepares his pipe, discreetly admiring the way the man’s tunic has ridden up, revealing a strip of tanned skin. They sit in silence for a few moments, Legolas admiring the night around them and Aragorn enjoying his pipe.

“It’s a shame your brothers were delayed, but it will be nice to see them again.” Legolas starts. 

He's not prepared for the coughing fit that ensues, the man dragging harder on his pipe than he'd intended in his shock; eyes streaming the man croaks out, 

"What? When?" 

Confused at this turn of events, Legolas frowns in concern at the ranger's wheezing. "The next few days I would think. Are you well?" 

Wiping his streaming eyes, the man tries to pull in the fresh night air, "I'm fine." Offering a weak smile that does little to reassure the elf.  _ Of course they're coming to visit. Mayhaps they won't notice...or vocalize...it's going to be a long visit.  _ So lost in thought the ranger didn't realize he'd lapsed into silence and had been absently tugging at the bottom of his tunic. He's startled from his reverie when he feels Legolas' hand upon his own, stilling them.

"I thought you'd gotten their letter? Do you not wish for them to visit?" The worry upon the elf's face has the ranger feeling suddenly silly.  _ They are my brothers, what will they care if I've gained a little weight. They probably won't even notice. Here I am acting like a child. _

"All is well, Las. I thought they’d decided to forgo their visit since I haven’t heard from them." Legolas studies him, years spent together has the elf knowing there's something else but he doesn't press the issue.

~ ~ ~

The next two days pass quicker than Aragorn would like; most of it spent trying to get as much work done before his brothers arrive.  

“Estel?” Legolas is standing in the doorway, an expectant look on his face as he waits for the man to look up from his desk. “A messenger just brought word, we’ve maybe an hour before they arrive.” Aragorn sighs as he trails his eyes across his desk and the many papers scattered across it; most aren't pressing and could wait a few days.

"I'll finish these up and then..." The man trails off, struggling to remember if any of his new tunics are clean.

"Lose track of time and have me come remind you?" Legolas finishes. The man look up to find the elf giving him an amused, if exasperated smile. Crossing the room, Legolas resists the urge to settle himself in the man's lap and occupy him until they're needed out front; instead he leans over the desk to steal a kiss. "One hour." Are the only words he tosses over his shoulder as he leaves. Aragorn forces his mind back onto the papers at hand, intent on finishing them  _ and _ being ready on his own.

Intention is a fallible thing.

No knock precedes Legolas' entrance this time, rather he strides into the room, tunic in one hand and a smirk upon his lips.

"I feel like we talked about this?"

"What would I do without you?" Aragorn asks, the question referring to more than just this moment. The absence of a smart reply and responding smile lets the man know Legolas understands all the unspoken words. It's when Legolas offers the tunic that the man feels himself shrink.

As he circles around the desk, Legolas offers the tunic once more and Aragorn fights off a cringe. He'd been managing to dress while the elf wasn't present, either slipping into their bathing chamber or rising earlier. He knew his behavior was irrational, just because he couldn't see it didn't mean it wasn't there. He'd wake in the night to find Legolas curled around him hand cupping his growing belly. This wasn't unusual, but the long weeks spent in a cast had caused the man to forget how tactile his husband had become.

Taking the proffered tunic, Aragorn tries to change as quickly as he can without appearing as frantic as he feels. Legolas openly admires the man as he strips off his tunic, the man’s odd behavior not going unenoticed. Legolas’ eyes drift down, noticing how his leggings ride low on the man’s hips, tied under the swell of his stomach.

Aragorn is relieved to see that Legolas had in fact grabbed one of his newer one, a deep green with golden threading, a match to what the elf was wearing. 

“What?” Aragorn asks, nervous at the look Legolas is giving him. Legolas just shakes his head, smiling at the man. “Come on, we’ll never hear the end of it if we’re not there when they arrive.” 

Slipping his arm around his husband's lithe waist, Aragorn heads for the courtyard, hoping they aren't late. 

~ ~ ~

As they're waiting for the group to arrive, Legolas begins to worry.  _ Mayhaps I should have told him? It's too late now to do anything about it and he's seemed so nervous about their arrival already. It'll be fine. Probably. _ Legolas catches himself glancing sideways at the man, words threatening to spill. Aragorn catches the look and flashes a smile, pulling the elf closer to his side. All thoughts are pushed from his head as he’s pulled into the man’s plush side.

"Getting soft in your old age brother!" Elladan calls from atop his horse as they ride into the courtyard. The man's smile falters as he calls back, "Getting forgetful in your old age? Thought you'd forgotten your promise of a visit before the pass closes for winter." 

“Mayhaps it is you who has forgotten?” Aragorn’s attention snaps to the horse behind his brothers at the familiar voice.

“Arwen!” Aragorn calls as they descend the stairs, meeting the twins at the bottom. Offering the traditional greeting, he clasps Elrohir's upper arm.

"So formal?" Elrohir pulls Aragorn in for a hug, barely getting his arms around the man before Aragorn pulls back. Elladan receives the same treatment, if anything Aragorn is prepared and is even quicker in the embrace. 

Arwen, however, is having none of it. Having already witnessed twice how the man plants himself, she steps in close and presses herself against him, so close Aragorn is practically hugging himself. “It’s so good to see you Estel.” Her words tangle in the ranger’s curly hair, Legolas is fairly certain the only reason he caught the words was because he could see her lips. At the words, Aragorn seems to relax in her embrace, her hands splayed wide across his broad back, fingertips indenting belying how tight the embrace truly is. Legolas watches it all, not quite able to place the discomfort among brothers,  _ I shall ask him tonight. Mayhaps there is some slight I'm not aware of. _

Finally releasing him, Arwen leaves Aragorn only long enough to greet Legolas before she loops her arm through the rangers, startling him from his conversation with the twins.

“This is a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you were coming.” Arwen casts a surprised look at the twins and then Legolas, confused.

“I thought it might be a nice surprise.” Legolas offers, knowing the man wouldn’t appreciate him pointing out his odd behavior.

"It's been so long since I've been here, show me to our chambers?" The twins roll their eyes at their sister. She knows perfectly well how to find their chambers, but she hoped the contact would help her discern what was troubling the man.

"I'm afraid that's all I'll be able to do." He's met with three similar frowns. "There are a few matters I wasn't able to attend to before you arrived. I should be able to finish them and join you for dinner?"

"I guess we'll just have to make do with you then." Elladan jokes, giving Legolas a slight shove. Aragorn guides Arwen down the hall, filling the time with questions of their trip and his [pleasure] at her surprise visit. Legolas follows, flanked by either twin who keep up a running commentary on their trip, interrupting each other as is their habit.   


As Aragorn heads down the hall, intent on finding his brothers and husband who have seemed to have forgotten the time, he hears familiar voices ahead.  _ What is it about elves and catching up?  _ He thinks to himself, smiling at the familiar predicament.  _ How many times have we been late when Las began talking to someone and simply lost track of time?  _

Turning the corner, Aragorn can make out the conversation through Elladan's open door. 

"-the hobbits visited recently?"  _ Elladan always did find the little ones amusing.  _

"No," Legolas laughs, "They don't seem too keen to leave The Shire since our adventure, though we do exchange letters on occasion." His brother's next words have the smile falling from Aragorn's face as the man stumbles to a halt.

"Could have fooled me, he's beginning to look like one!" There's a muffled thud and a rustling of fabric before Elrohir's chastising voice, "Dan."

"You can't tell me you didn't notice. I think our dear brother is enjoying the kingly life. Don't give me that look. Can you honestly say that our not so little brother would be able to don his chain mail and charge into battle?" Aragorn doesn't need to hear more, he  _ can't  _ hear more. Turning on his heel, he begins back down the hall, his years as a ranger keeping his footsteps silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, comments, rants or random outbursts are greatly appreciated.


	3. Missed Connections

Standing in front of the mirror, Aragorn can’t help but hear his brother’s words. _Just like every other man out there, the longer I’m married and older I get I just stop trying to look good for Las. You only married one of the first born, the flawless and ethereal beauty known throughout the lands and yet you look...fat._

Turning sideways, Aragorn doesn’t have to pull the back of the tunic tight to see the curve of his stomach, as it strains the fabric on its own. _He’s not wrong, there’s no way I could get in my chain mail._ The sudden image of Gimli struggling to get the armor over his thick frame before battle flashes through his mind. _What must Las think? He's not changed an ounce since I met him.The only reason he needs a new tunic is it's worn through in places, not because it's too tight._ With that thought the man runs his hand down his stomach, gauging how soft he’s gotten.

In all reality, he was doing incredibly well for his age, most men didn't make it to 97 and those that did could barely shuffle. However, none of this occurred to him as he stood studying his reflection, analyzing this new image with a visual from years past. The weight had settled similar to those who are less active, spending their days sitting and perhaps imbibing more than necessary. Aragorn isn't expecting Legolas return to their chamber and stumbles quickly away from the mirror when he hears the door opening behind him. 

"Estel, are you ok?" Legolas had opened the door to find Aragorn quickly making his way across the room, practically tripping over his own feet.

"I'm fine." Aragorn tries to slow his pounding heart, As if my brother's teasing wasn't enough, Las almost walks in on me. Legolas studies the man, not sure how to start.

"Estel...I….we need to talk." He isn't prepared for the hurt that flashes across the man's face before the careful mask of King is in place. _This is it. He's telling me he can't stand the sight of me anymore. How could such a beautiful creature be expected to stay with a fat mortal?_ Aragorn can't bring himself to speak, his mouth suddenly dry as the shame wells within him so he simply nods. Crossing the room, Legolas stands before his husband, sliding his hands down the man's arms before he loosely grasps his hands.

"I love you." Legolas starts with the only thing he knows without a doubt, however the unflinching gaze of King Elessar looks back at him. "I...I know your brothers made some comments." There it is, Legolas doesn't miss the flicker of pain in the man's eyes or the tensing of his body.

  
“About their ‘not so little brother?’” It’s then the cold wash of fear floods Legolas, _He heard us talking. That’s why he wasn’t waiting for us. Elbereth Dan!_ So stunned, Legolas doesn't respond, only stands there in silent shock, staring dumbly at the ranger.

  
“I never thought you cruel.” The man’s tone is brittle, as though he can barely get the words out. When Legolas only looks on, mouth opening and closing in confused silence Aragorn continues, “My brothers mocking me I can handle. But not you, never you.” _By the Valar I am going to use that elf for target practice._ Legolas can see the tears welling in his husband’s eyes as he fights so hard to contain them. Aragorn tries to roughly push his way past the elf, the last thing he wants is to be cornered in a room, their room, with him.

Using everything he has, Legolas takes Aragorn by the upper arms, stopping him with a near bruising grip. Before the anger that flashes in the man’s eyes can obscure reason, he exclaims, "I don't mind if you've gained weight!" The words come out louder than he intends and Aragorn flinches, neither entirely sure if it's from the volume or the content. The facade crumbles and surprised laughter falls from Aragorn's lips, however the laughter lasts only a few moments before uncertainty hangs heavy in the air between them. Wishing to reassure the man Legolas starts, “It looks good on you, it _feels_ good on you. It's..." Legolas flounders for the right word to convey the feeling he gets when held close against his softening husband, "reassuring," He finally manages.

Aragorn blinks at the words, confusion drawing his features in. Biting his lip, Legolas tries to vocalize the feeling. "It reminds me that we’re safe, that the war is over and we don't have to be ready to fight anymore." Legolas cringes at the implication, seeing the hurt flash in the man’s eyes once more, but continues on quickly, "Sometimes, I forget that we did it, that we don't have to fear that we won’t make it through the night. This,” Legolas drops one had to the swell of Aragorn’s belly, his other holding the ranger in place as he tries to twist away, “is because we’re safe. We’re happy.”

Aragorn struggles to reconcile his husband's words with the fear and embarrassment that's been plaguing him for the past few weeks. _He can’t possibly….he’s been so tactile lately, how could I have missed this?_ Legolas watches as several emotions flicker through the man's eyes, hoping he hasn't caused further pain.

  
"I''m sorry." Aragorn says, wrapping his arms around the elf's slim waist and drawing him closer. "I had no idea it still haunted you." Aragorn scrambles to find the words to reassure the elf, ashamed he's been oblivious to the pain this long.

  
" _You've_ nothing to be sorry for. I'm fine and you're brothers-"

  
"Didn't mean for me to hear." Aragorn finishes, the comments still too raw to be assuaged. Legolas winces at this, stepping out of the man's arms.

  
"Well, no. Estel, they truly didn't mean to upset you. You know Dan doesn't know when to hold his tongue and besides, after Arwen I doubt you'll hear another word from them."Legolas cringes when he realizes what he's let slip as the man's eyes widen in surprise. Aragorn suddenly finding himself very, _very_ tired.

  
"Arwen?"

  
"She was worried about you and asked if you were well. She mentioned she'd sensed you were unwell recently and grew concerned when you were distant this morning." Aragorn wonders, thinking to the time she'd confronted him about his relationship with Legolas after having sensed something.  
"What....?" The word is breathed out on a long sigh, too many questions for him to pick one.

  
"She started with telling them to stop making comments about your weight, that it looks good on you. When that only seemed to encourage them she said they were just jealous I had picked you over them and how they'd wasted so many years arguing over which one of them would be with me." The words are said so casually as Legolas waves his hand, easily dismissing the idea. This is not the answer the man is expecting and he feels a sudden surge of jealousy, quickly followed by pride that Legolas _had_ in fact picked him. "I doubt they'll even try a prank this visit after that. She was rather upset with them." Legolas can't bring himself to mention the rest of her scolding, not wishing to further upset his husband.

  
"Think they would notice if we skip dinner?" Legolas knows the man is only half joking, but he can see the very real desire lingering in his eyes.

  
"Yes, but I have an idea."

~ ~ ~

  
Aragorn and Legolas make their way down to the dining hall, arriving early so they can arrange themselves carefully around the table. Aragorn not wishing to be too terribly close to his brothers, regardless of the plan. With Legolas on one side and an empty seat on the other, there's a nice buffer. Arwen slips into the empty seat next to Aragorn, giving him a meaningful glance. The twins are the last to arrive, casting a guilty glance at their brother before they sit across from one another, Elrohir beside Arwen with Elladan next to Legolas.

  
Soon the meal is well underway with the low chatter filling the halls. Taking mostly greens, Aragorn barely fills his plate, just enough to not obviously draw attention. Eating the occasional bite, the plate before him is barely touched by the time dinner is drawing to a close. Legolas leans toward Aragorn, pitching his voice low but loud enough to draw attention.

  
"Are you not hungry meleth nin?" The man spares a glance at the plate before him as though surprised by the elf's inquiry. Legolas’ question affords the man the opportunity to watch as Elladan’s and Arwen’s attentions are pulled in their direction, both trying to cast a discreet glance at his plate

  
"I've had enough." The man fights to hide the smile that pulls at his lips at Legolas’ responding scoff.

  
"You've eaten less than an elfling." Before he can continue, the plates are cleared and servants begin bringing out dessert. It's one of Aragorn’s favorites and his mouth waters at the sight as he tightens his stomach muscles, trying to stifle his growling stomach; taking only the smallest bite when a prompting nudge comes from Legolas. He’s fallen into conversation with Arwen but his attention is drawn to Legolas when he feels the elf's warm hand gently squeeze his thigh, turning he's met with a small reassuring smile.

  
The final plates are cleared and guests begin drifting away on murmurs of other destinations. Arwen stands with the twins nearby, talk of heading to the Family Hall to continue their evening on the comfortable seating. Rising, Aragorn grasps Legolas’ elbow, pausing him before he can turn to leave. "I think I shall retire, don't let me keep you from the evening's festivities." Legolas watches him leave, pausing occasionally to chat briefly when someone calls out to him. It's when he feels Arwen's presence at his side that he turns to her, eyebrows raised in question.

  
"Will Estel not be joining us?" Arwen says, looking past his shoulder at the man's retreating form.

  
"He said he wished to retire."

  
"Is he ill? He hardly ate anything." _I shouldn't lie to her, she's the one that defended him_.

  
"No, I think he just...wasn't up for socializing." Legolas cringes as he says it, undermining the sentiment. Seeing the twins looking around, most likely in search of them, Legolas pulls Arwen in for a hug, wishing to escape before more questions arise. "All is well." He whispers into her ear, barely louder than a sigh so only she hears. Pulling back he clasps her upper arms, noting the understanding in her eyes and the small smile on her lips before turning and striding briskly through the hall, intent on escaping the twins.  
Entering their chambers, Legolas finds his husband sitting in a chair near the fire, hunched over with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped loosely between them. _Mayhaps this isn't a good idea just for my inane pleasure._ Before the elf can confront the man there's a knocking at the door, drawing both their attentions.

  
With a frustrated growl, Legolas crosses the outer chamber once more and cracks open the door, having his suspicions confirmed. Elladan and Elrohir.

  
“Did you need something?” The Prince shining through in full force, gaze and tone crisp as he steps out the door, pulling it closed behind him.

  
"If he's unwell we should examine him." Elrohir begins, following closer in his father's footsteps than his twin.

  
"Do you really think he'd want you to examine him after your comments? He's your brother, he's worshipped you since he was little and you hurt him deeply. His life is short, do you really want that time spent with him despising how he looks?" Legolas is just as shocked at the words as the twins, not having realized the true issue he was having until he'd spoken. Seeing mirrored expressions of pain and shame, Legolas turns on his heel and slips back through the door.

  
Pausing on the other side, he takes a shuddering breath, pushing the heated argument out of his mind. Aragorn is standing before the fire, turning expectantly when Legolas enters the rooms once more.

  
“I have something for you.” Legolas says, holding out his hand to draw Aragorn to him. Aragorn is intrigued at this turn of events, but doesn’t press the elf as Legolas leads him to the table where a large covered serving platter is waiting.  
“They were your favorites.” Legolas explains, lifting the cover. Aragorn can feel his mouth water at the delicious scents, his stomach emitting a loud growl, causing him to blush furiously.  
“There’s enough here for three people, Las.” Aragorn nervously laughs, trying to keep his tone light even though he knows he could easily eat every bite.

  
“You didn't get a chance to eat today. You don’t have to...” Legolas tries to keep his voice steady, I want to feed you all of it. Legolas blushes furiously at the thought. _What has gotten into him?_ Aragorn wonders, noting the flushed cheeks and quickly averted eyes.

  
“Hannon le, it was very kind of you. Won’t you join me so that I don’t eat alone?” Aragorn gestures to the chair across from him. Though Legolas had in fact eaten dinner, he knows the man well enough to understand. _If it will get him to eat dinner what can it hurt?_ Taking his seat, Legolas begins filling a plate with food as Aragorn pours the wine. _Mayhaps I’m not the only one with an appetite._ Aragorn muses to himself, watching as the elf fills the plate to capacity, carefully arranging things so they’ll not topple off. With a grin the man can’t quite make out, Legolas offers him the plate, waiting expectantly for him to take it.

  
“Las?” Aragorn’s eyebrows raise in question.

  
“What?” Legolas waves his other hand as though the rest of his thoughts are simply floating about the room.

  
“No, it...looks delicious.” Amused at the usually poised elf, Aragorn accepts the plate, nearly dropping it at the unexpected weight. Legolas begins picking at the food before him, prompting Aragorn to start on his own. After a few minutes of anticipatory silence, Aragorn asks the question he fears he knows the answer to.

  
“Who was at the door?” At the words, Legolas stops mid-chew, studying the grape he’s pinched between long fingers.

  
“Elladan and Elrohir.” His eyes flick up to the man’s gauging the reaction. _Full names. What could they possibly have said now?_

  
“Is all well?” Legolas takes to rolling the grape between his fingers as he debates just how much to tell the man.

  
“They were worried you left the Hall and wished to examine you.” With that he pops the grape in his mouth, too nonchalant. Aragorn can see the attitude rolling off the elf as he plucks up another grape, rolling it in his nimble fingers.

  
“I’m surprised you got them to leave so quickly”.

  
“I assured them all was well.” _More or less_. Legolas mentally shrugs to himself. “Please, don’t dwell on them anymore. I take it dinner is to your liking?” Glancing down Aragorn realizes he’d given into his hunger and  nearly finished the mountainous plate Legolas had prepared for him.

  
“It’s wonderful.” The man feels his face heat in embarrassment.

  
“I’m glad.” His mind still turning over the argument with the twins, Legolas isn’t fully aware of himself picking up the man’s plate and refilling. It’s only when he’s setting it back down, eyes noting the rounded swell of the man’s stomach, that he realizes what he’s done. He notices Aragorn watching him, surprise and something else lifting his features as he glances at the brimming plate before him. _It looks good on you...feels good...he couldn’t possibly?_ Aragorn opens his mouth to ask, what exactly he doesn’t know, when Legolas quickly averts his gaze, suddenly finding the balcony very interesting. With a sly grin the man decides to toy with his husband a little, enjoying seeing him flustered.

  
“This really is delicious, Las, but I fear I’m full.” With that the man leans back in his chair, running one hand across his distended stomach, already taut from the previous lack of food. Legolas doesn’t turn his head from the direction of the balcony, but watches the man’s movements from the corner of his eye with such intensity Aragorn has to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

  
“Oh?” The word comes out strangled and high, eliciting a booming laugh from the man that quickly turns into a groan as he clutches his full stomach. “Estel?” Turning to fully face the man now, his eyes fixed on his belly, Aragorn waves off the elf’s concern. _In for a pence, in for...many stones._ The man thinks ruefully to himself as he fiddles with his utensil. Setting himself to it, the man rests his thick arm on the table, hunching forward over his stomach. If he was honest with himself, and in this moment he is, he misses the feeling of being just overfull. The elf’s word coming back to him, _reassuring_. That was it, the comfort it brought with it; those nights he would tumble into bed with Las, limbs heavy with sleep and body weighted by food, some instinctual part of him knowing they were safe. The loud sound of a log popping in the fire startles the man from his reverie, only to find Legolas watching him, lust in his eyes. _How much has he had to drink? The last time he had that look…._ The man smiles widely at the memory.

  
“Las?” Having been lost in his own musings the elf quickly averts his gaze, trying desperately to calm himself; he’d watched the man nearly finish the second plate, leaving little more than scraps on the serving platter. Aragorn flashes his husband a smile that quickly falters as he leans back, groaning.

  
“Estel? What’s wrong?” The man feels bad at the panic in Legolas’ eyes.  
“Feel like I’m gonna burst.” He runs his hands down his distended stomach, drawing the elf’s attention. Legolas openly admires the sight before him, the man sprawled in the chair, legs spread wide to give his heavy belly more room, one hand lazily rubbing circles into its stretched side. _You’ll need new tunics again, what alteration will this make? Three? Four?_ The man had been so careful, same cut same cloth, but Legolas was too intimate with the man not to notice the feel of a fresh tunic, nor the way it was suddenly loose on the man’s thickening frame. It’s as Legolas is turning over these delicious thoughts, the man is swayed by thoughts of his own.

  
Waiting for Legolas to speak, his brother’s words begin to creep back into his head, _He’s probably at a loss for words and regretting choosing you. The twins would never make such a spectacle of themselves. What could he possibly say after that display? Even the hobbits would be ashamed of that show of gluttony. Eaten so much your tunic doesn’t even fit-again._ The cool night air from the open door raises gooseflesh on the strip of skin revealed when the tunic rode up. Not realizing he’s doing it once more, Aragorn begins the futile attempt at tugging down the bottom of his tunic. It’s this familiar action that pulls Legolas from his thoughts and the look of pure shame on the man’s face has him reaching out, stilling the nervous tic.

  
Before he can talk himself out of it, in one smooth motion Legolas drops to his knees before the man, pushing the tunic up. He trails his fingers across the taut, tanned skin, tracing the stretch marks that creep along the man’s side. Under his fingers he can feel the man’s breath hitch, rolling his eyes up to meet the man’s he begins pressing kisses near his navel.

  
"I...like it.." Aragorn shifts at the words, excitement pooling in his groin at the sight before him mixing with shame and embarrassment.

  
"You don't mind or you like it?" Aragorn asks softly, unsure why the distinction is important but he has to know. There'd been something different these past weeks in the way the elf looked at him, touched him. Legolas' cheeks suddenly burn, the man outside the tavern flashing through his mind quickly followed by a vision of Aragorn sporting a similar belly.

  
_Tell some, tell all_. "More would be,” Legolas pauses, sucking a hickey into the man’s sensitive stomach, sending shivers of pleasurable pain, “pleasing.” The words little more than a whisper, Legolas straddles the man, lacing his fingers behind Aragorn’s neck to secure himself. Gripping the elf’s slender waist, grateful not for the first time of the elf’s slight weight, Aragorn rises; Legolas wrapping his long legs around the man’s thickening waist. Taking the few steps to the bed, Aragorn sets Legolas on the edge, grinning rakishly against his lips as Legolas trails his hands down the man’s arms and under the tunic.

  
“I need you.” The usually melodic voice is husky as Legolas’ nimble fingers begin unlacing the man’s leggings, palming the straining swell. As they were in years past, clothing quickly finds its way to the floor as hands and mouths tangle upon the other’s body. Tearing himself from Legolas’ greedy mouth, Aragorn spins the elf around, bending him over the bed. Legolas peers over his shoulder, admiring the sight behind him as he prepares himself. Calloused fingers rasp against the elf’s hips as Aragorn pulls the supple body towards his, sheathing himself in one smooth motion. Legolas bites his lip, trapping the guttural pleasure that threatens to escape at the feel of his husband filling him, his heavy belly resting in the curve of the elf’s back. It doesn’t take long for either to reach completion, Legolas collapsing to the bed as shivers wrack his body. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This got wildly longer than anticipated, but that's in part thanks to Star Thief and Rachel Anderson who requested the next bit. Thank you for your lovely comments! They do spur me to keep sharing. :D 
> 
> Side note: This is only the second sexy time scene I've ever written and I discovered I have to get a writing start to write it. The first one (is better?) will actually be in the next chapter...*whistles innocently*
> 
> You know the drill...let me know if this is rubbish or if you want the next bit. Also, the mostly written next bit is a couple months time jump. Sound good?


	4. Feast Your Eyes

The winter months find many a night spent with Aragorn nestled in the v of Legolas' legs, leaning his broad back against the elf's lithe chest in front of a roaring fire. Legolas had taken to hooking his chin on the man's shoulder, reading the book Aragorn’s propped on swell of his growing belly. As the elf's long arms wrap around the man, feeding him bits of pastry and fruit from the platter next to them; his hands slipping up under the stretched fabric of the tunic to trace the stretch marks that ribbon across the man’s sides.

“Are you even paying attention to the story?” Aragorn asks, startling Legoals from his reverie as he rubs his husband’s belly, gently pressing to see how much more he can feed the man before he’s reached his limit. 

Legolas scoffs, Aragorn turning his head towards the elf, eyebrow raised in a challenging question. Glancing at the page, the elf casually recounts the story so far, finishing with a teasing, “Mayhaps it’s you who is distracted.” With that Legolas draws his hands slowly back as though to prevent further distraction.

“Only by your beauty.” Aragorn counters, trying to shuffle back and reclaim the elf’s ministrations.  _ I’m just lucky I’ve read this novel twice.  _ The elf grins to himself as Aragorn settles back into his book. As the night wears on the plate is soon as empty as the man is full; the page turning slowing.

“We should go to bed, we’ve got a busy day tomorrow.” Legolas prompts, voice laced with reluctance, wanting nothing more than to stay like this for the rest of his time. 

“Let me finish this chapter.” 

“You said that two chapters ago. You’re nearly as bad as an elfling.” Legolas laughs, easily rising as he pulls the book from the man’s loose grasp. Legolas does his best to appear busy, collecting the plate and making sure they haven’t forgotten the nothing they brought with them, as he surreptitiously watches the man struggle to rise. Aragorn can’t stifle the groan as he rolls to one knee, the fire backlighting him,  _ Give him a sword and he shall be King, _ Legolas thinks to himself. 

It’s there the man finds himself stuck, his heavy belly preventing him from rising, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Legolas allows himself to admire only for the time it take to cross to the man and offer his hand. The elf twitches in place, resisting the urge to drop into a crouch of his own and run his hand down the curve of the man’s substantial belly,  _ Getting rather heavy?  _ The words pull at his tongue and he gazes down at the man, licking his lips and the unsaid words from them. 

Aragorn gazes up at the elf, reassured by the lust clearly upon his features. Grasping the elf’s hand, his other pressed to the bottom of his stomach. As Legolas hauls the man to his feet, he draws the man close, pressing a kiss to his lips.

~ ~ ~

With these months being the hardest for many families, Aragorn had instituted monthly feasts where the doors were open to all the townspeople. These were Legolas' favorite occasions as of late. It was on these nights that Aragorn was once more a ranger and not a king. 

After the opening words, dinner would begin and once the meal was well underway, Aragorn would drift among the people, making sure to pause at each table, some longer than others. Those were the tables that Legolas liked best, the people would invite their king to join them and ply him with food and drink as they conversed. Often these people had his husband's laughter roaring through the hall, drawing a smile to the elf's lips no matter what conversation he was in. 

From his days as a ranger, Aragorn knew that sharing a table meant more to people and was a faster means of sharing  trust. Legolas had yet to see his husband turn down any offer, no matter how full the man was. So it was the little gestures Legolas had noticed and now looked for. A hand braced on the table to rise, or a knuckle dragged across his lower back would belie the man’s comfort. Legolas had become enamored with the curve of Aragorn’s back as he would drag that knuckle deep across the muscle, bowed by the weight of his heavy belly. 

Legolas would restrain himself for as long as he could before he would begin picking his way across the room to wherever his husband was; easily slipping into the conversation as he wraps an arm around his husband’s ever thickening waist.

Tonight though, Legolas had been pulled into a group all his own by a familiar face. Legolas had spotted the friendly shopkeeper at the start of dinner but quickly lost track of her. 

“My favorite customer!” It’s the familiar voice that causes Legolas to turn, a smile pulling his lips at the sight before him. The friendly shopkeeper has risen from her bench, a miniature of her peering around her swaying skirts.

“I’m afraid you catch me at a disadvantage my lady, I do not know your name.” 

“This is the lad ye been tellin’ me about? Ye didn’ say he was so handsome!” The man, who Legolas assumes is her husband, drops him a wink at his wife’s exasperated sigh.

“I’m Lisbet, this shy little thing is Ella,” Legolas catches another glimpse of the young girl as her mother runs a loving hand over the crown of her head before turning to the man, “And this is my,” here she pauses, cheekily sizing up the man, “husband, Alwyn.” She finally finishes, sharing a smile that Legolas has shared many a time with Arwen over Aragorn.

“It looks like you’re taking good care of our King.” Alwyn notes, catching Legolas casting yet another glance in the man’s direction.

“Alwyn! You shouldn’t say such things.” Lisbet exclaims, embarrassed. 

“What? I’m not sayin’ there’s anythin’ wrong wit it. Means they’re happy. We’re happy.” At this the man pauses and pats his own generous stomach, reminding Legolas of Lisbet’s warning. “Look at ‘im; now look at Wenyld’s husband.” Alwyn continues, gesturing to a middle-aged man, nearly as thin as the elf himself, who doesn’t appear to be enjoying himself in the least. Stealing a glance at Aragorn as he turns his gaze back to the group, Legolas can’t help but smile. The man seems to be enjoying the conversation, a large smile splitting his face but it’s the goblet he’s rested on the ample curve of his stomach that catches the elf’s eye.  _ He probably doesn’t even realize he’s drawing attention, silly man.  _

“We are  _ very _ happy.” Legolas smiles widely at the man and his wife. Happy to learn more about Lisbet and her husband, Legolas is drawn into their conversation and realizes some time later he’s lost track of Aragorn and begins scanning  the room for his missing husband. 

“Looking for me?” The familiar voice asks as the elf feels the man’s hands slide around this waist, the curve of his round belly filling the small of the elf’s back.

“Mmmm...maybe.” Legolas sighs, relishing the feeling, coming back to himself Legolas gestures to the couple before him, “Estel, let me introduce you to the woman who’s been so kind in helping me keep you in pipe weed.” Alarmed by the sudden appearance of their king, Lisbet and Alwyn hasten to their feet, beginning to drop into the traditional curtsey and bow before Aragorn can stop them.

“I owe you a great thanks my lady.” Aragorn says, offering his hand. Legolas can only roll his eyes as he presses a brief kiss to the back of the woman’s hand, causing a flush to spread across her cheeks. Giving Alwyn’s hand a firm shake his attention is drawn to the woman’s swaying skirts.

“Who do we have here?” Aragorn has a soft spot for the children of his lands. The small face Legolas had spied earlier appears once more, body still hidden behind her mother.

“This is our daughter, Ella. She’s a bit shy, your grace.” Aragorn waves off the formalities.

"Won't you join us?" Alwyn offers, gesturing to their table.

"It's the least I could do for the how kind you've been to my husband." Aragorn says,dragging a bench from the closest table over, creating a less formal arrangement so they’re gathered in a small circle. Most families had wandered back home by this hour, leaving a few scattered groups throughout the room. Legolas takes a place on the bench near Aragorn, smiling as he notices Ella carefully hiding herself behind her mother, ever watchful eyes studying the newcomers. They fall into easy conversation, wanting to hear firsthand some of the legends from Aragorn's ranger days and Alwyn regaling them with tales of his own.

It's one of these stories that draws Ella out. Alwyn's latest tale has them all laughing, Aragorn's deep, rumbling laugh seems to draw the child who'd been slowly making her way from her hiding spot. Hesitating when she catches Legolas watching her, she takes the few steps to stand in front of the ranger, keeping one eye on the elf. Once there she looks up into Aragorn's laughing face who beams down at her, happy to have earned her appearance.

"Ella, it is an honor to meet you." Aragorn says, offering his hand. Glancing back to her mother as though for permission she places her own small hand in his calloused one. Watching carefully so as not to send her scurrying once more, he brings her small hand to his mouth and presses a featherlight kiss to her knuckles, just like with her mother. That's all the girl needs and Legolas can see the man has gained a new admirer. No sooner has he settled back then the girl in scrambling to get into what's left of the man's lap. Seeing this, Lisbet makes an exclaimed "Oh!," and grabs for the little girl.

"It's ok. If...?" Aragorn gestures, wanting to make sure Lisbet doesn't mind. The surprise and embarrassment is quickly replaced with a motherly smile and a nod. She knows her daughter couldn't be in safer hands. The man easily scoops her up, balancing her on his knee with one hand bracing her back. 

The stories begin once more, though Legolas can't help but find himself glancing at little Ella. She's become fascinated by the man's curly hair. Having found that when gently pulled down and released, it curls back up in a spring. The giggle elicited by her discovery draws everyone's attention, causing her to pink and bury her face in the man's chest. His rumbling laughter soon draws her back out. Deciding to test her theory further she works her way through the various curls that she can reach as the small group talks on.

Soon, Alwyn has questions of the elf's own adventures and Legolas is happy to oblige in sharing some of his people's history. Legolas finds himself glancing at his husband occasionally, catching small hands rubbing tired eyes and big yawns. As Legolas finishes the tale of the drinking challenge between him and Gimli, Ella lets out a grumble as she’s jostled from the man’s laughing.

"It's been a lovely evening, I can't thank you enough, but we should probably be going. That one will be worse than a wet cat if she wakes." Lisbet says, reluctance filling her voice. Legolas follows her gaze, full of love and a touch of amusement. Ella has fallen asleep, wrapping her thin arms as far around the man as she can before twisting the tunic into her fist, with her head nestled on top of his generous belly. Aragorn doesn’t need to share the look that couples use to convey entire conversations to know the elf is already thinking the same thing.

“Why don’t you stay the night here? It’s too late and cold to travel.” 

“We couldn’t possibly-” Lisbet begins, sharing one of  _ those _ looks with her husband. 

“Please, we have room to spare and we’re the reason you’re here so late.” Legolas implores.

“Really, we insist.” With one last look between them, Lisbet nods.

“Thank you, it is really kind of you.” Aragorn waves the words away. Aragorn rises slowly so as not to jostle Ella. 

They don’t make it far before Aragorn is approached by one of his commanding guards.

“Sorry to interrupt your grace.” Seeing this will take more than a sentence, Aragorn turns with regret.

“I’ll show them to their chambers and meet you at ours.” Legolas supplies smoothly.

“Hannon le. I’m sorry I’m not able to do so.” Lisbet waves off the king’s apologies, gently slipping her sleeping daughter from his arms. 

“It is of no matter. We appreciate your letting us stay.” As Aragorn turns to the guard before him he can hear the low murmurs of Lisbet, Alwyn and Legolas as they make their way from the hall.

~ ~ ~

Legolas easily situated Lisbet and her family in one of the guest chambers before making his way to the family hall, arriving just in time to admire Aragorn without the man noticing. He was making his way slowly down the hall, his swagger hampered by his slight waddle; Legolas bites his lip when the man drags his knuckle across his lower back, digging into the strained muscle. Quickening his pace, Legolas easily catches up to the man, rubbing the heel of his palm into the tight knot of muscle he knows pains the man; Aragorn relaxes into the touch.

“They get settled ok?” 

“Yes.” Legolas hesitates, wanting,  _ needing,  _ to hear his King say the words to quell the bit of panic that had risen when the guard approached. “All well?” 

“Yes, he was confirming orders that anyone still here would spend the night in the Hall.” Legolas nods, so lost in thoughts of how foolish he was he doesn’t realize they’ve entered their chambers until Aragorn speaks.

“Las...think I’m gonna burst.” Legolas’ entirety tightens at the words, the man was rarely so blunt with his discomfort. Usually Legolas would make comments about how full he was, eliciting a response from the man other than the groans he tries to muffle

Frozen to the spot at the admission, the elf takes in the sight before him. Aragorn cradling his decidedly overstuffed belly, the tunic stretched so tight he’s surprised it hasn’t torn. His belly so firm and round, his formidable stomach muscles preventing it from sagging.  _ He looks ready to birth. _ Too many words fill Legolas’ mouth for him to speak coherently. 

With that, Aragorn slowly lowers himself to sit on the edge of the bed, one arm behind him for balance while the other still cradles his heavy stomach. Legolas doesn’t move, preferring to admire the scene before him. It’s only when Aragorn emits a low groan of pain as he tries to bend over to remove his boots that Legolas finds himself able to move once more. Crossing quickly, he’s dropped before the man in mere moments, deft fingers undoing the laces and sliding off one boot, then the other. Having finished his task, the elf glances up at the ranger and is decidedly undone.

The broad slope of Aragorn’s stomach is only emphasised from his position, legs spread wide to give it more room. He lets his eyes trail up, noting the hand resting on the roundest part and the arm thrown back, keeping him leaning.

By the time Legolas’ mind catches up with itself he’s already pulled the man to standing, trying to manhandle him out of his leggings only to find them already unlaced. 

“They were too tight.” Legolas isn’t sure if the flush upon the man’s cheeks is from embarrassment or drink but he doesn’t care as he drops once more to his knees, dragging the tight leggings down with him. Aragorn is ready to go, precum dripping from his erect cock. Legolas takes the man’s length in his mouth, teasing the tip with his tongue; it doesn’t take long before the man is spilling his seed into the elf’s mouth.

Unable to wait, Legolas turns Aragorn around, bending him over the edge of the bed. Legolas knows he  _ should _ be gentle, go slow lest he cause the man pain. He knows he  _ should.  _ But tonight, after Aragorn’s teasing he  _ can’t _ . 

Slicking himself, Legolas buries himself deep within the ranger, enjoying how tight he feels inside and out. Legolas tries to pace himself but the image of Aragorn standing before the bed, stomach so swollen he can’t bear to stand anymore won’t stop running through his head. Lost in reverie of a near bursting Aragorn, Legolas’ thrusts become more urgent, only spurred on by the grunts of discomfort coming from the man. The sound of Aragorn’s tunic ripping echoes through the chamber; driving Legolas on harder. Still  seated deep inside the man, Legolas runs his hands over the newly exposed skin, feeling the gooseflesh raise from the cool night air. 

Legolas is murmuring elvish, too soft and fast for the man to pick out each word, but blushes furiously at what he does manage to catch. 

“I’m...too...full.” Aragorn says, taunting the elf. It’s those words that bring Legoals to climax, the thought that the man had filled himself so completely Legolas’ cum wouldn’t fit. With a final thrust, he releases himself, a shuddering sigh torn from his lips. Slipping free, he watches as Aragorn sags onto the bed, total satiation loosening his muscles. 

Slipping his hands under the ruined tunic, Legolas slips it off over the man’s head and tosses it to the side. Next he gently guides the man further back on the bed, easing him onto his side before climbing in behind him. He curves himself to fit against Aragorn’s broader features, letting him right arm drape over the man’s thickened hips so he can rub soothing circles on his swollen stomach. In the quiet of the night, Legolas continues his soothing motion long after the man’s breathing evens out and he’s slipped into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay, I've been sick and it makes editing...interesting. I'm still sick, so if there's anything off about this chapter please let me know.  
> Thank you for making it this far, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I only have one more prepared and slightly started so I fear the next update won't be as quick. If there is anything you'd like to see happen in this verse just drop me a suggestion!
> 
> Side note: I am obnoxious about finding the perfect word which means I practically live in Synonym City. I was checking on the definition of formidable (as used above) and cracked up after reading the definition. It's so...fitting.  
> Formidable: inspiring...respect through being impressively large...


	5. The Other, Other F-word, Father-in-law

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving! What better way to celebrate? ;)  
> Thank you to everyone who's read this fic, especially those who left me comments. They seriously make me do a little happy...like all day.  
> I'm REALLY sorry for the delay. This chapter just didn't want to be finished. That said, it's also nearly 7,000 words all on its own making it twice as long as the previous longest chapter. So hopefully that makes up for the delay?

“Mmm, I like the new tunic.” Legolas says, coming up behind Aragorn who’s studying himself in the full mirror of their bedroom. The new tunic is a dark green, similar to the ones the wood elf wears, with a subtle gold trim around the edges. With Legolas’ enthusiastic feeding, Aragorn had been growing out of his tunics fairly quickly; usually they lasted no more than a couple weeks. 

“You should wear this when my father arrives.” Aragorn had leaned back into the elf’s embrace, enjoying the feel of Legolas’ arms wrapped around him, hands tracing the broad curves of his belly. But at the elf’s words Aragorn’s eyes fly open in surprise. 

“Thranduil is coming...here?” Aragorn turns so fast to face the elf he ends up bumping his overfull belly into Legolas, a soft groan escaping his lips. Legolas’ gently rubs the man’s stomach, a smile pulling at his lips as Aragorn’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. 

“Yes, he wrote and said he wished to visit. I expect he’ll arrive in about a week. What are you so concerned for meleth nin? He knows and accepts us, has for years.” It was true, informing Thranduil of their relationship had been terrifying, but the King couldn’t deny that their love was true and wouldn’t be denied no matter what he ordered.

“He barely approved of our relationship when I was….” Aragorn trails off, not able to bring himself to voice the dark thoughts that plague him still; instead he gestures down the length of his body. Legolas’ brow furrows in confusion, following the length of Aragorn’s gesture. Seeing his husband’s confusion, Aragorn huffs in frustration. “Before I got  _ fat. _ ” He spits the words, chubby cheeks flaming in shame.

“Oh, Estel.” His voice a soft murmur, Legolas gently tilts Aragorn’s face to his, drawing his attention up from the spot on the floor he’d been focused on. “Adar will not think less of you because of this.” Legolas bring his other hand up to caress the side of the man’s large  belly . Seeing the doubt and shame still in his lover’s eyes, Legolas draws the ranger in, curving his lithe body around the man’s softer one. He starts by pressing a gentle kiss to the man’s lips, trailing them across his softened jaw then down the side of his neck before returning to the man’s parted lips. Slipping his tongue in, he tastes the man before gently nipping his lip. “I love you.” Legolas whispers into Aragorn’s lips.

~ ~ ~

Over the next week, Aragorn’s anxiety only increased which meant so did his nervous eating much to Legolas’ delight. By midweek, the man was rarely without something to nibble on between meals; his belly always bordering on overfull. Legolas happened upon this revelation when he paid Aragorn his usual mid-morning visit. He’d stopped by the kitchen to pick up a snack as he always had only to find Aragorn finishing up a plate of pastries. Aragorn flushed pink at being caught, not realizing it only excited the elf.

“Oh, Las!” Aragorn exclaims, casting a guiltily look at the tray of muffins the elf is carrying, “Must have lost track of time.” Smiling all the broader, Legolas crosses the chamber, taking up his usual seat next to the desk.

“Forgive me.” Legolas says, adopting his best apologetic face. Concerned, Aragorn turns in his chair to face him, “Whatever for melleth nin?” Having to bite his lip to keep his grin contained, Legolas lifts his gaze from the man’s newly revealed stomach pressing against the tunic.

“That I was late in bringing sustenance.” He can contain the grin no longer and flashes the ranger a cheeky smile, placing his hands on Aragorn’s stomach and gently pressing. Surprised at the fullness he finds, but hopes nonetheless, “You don’t have to eat these?”  _ I don’t  _ have _ to, but you’d like me to.  _ The man thinks to himself, warring at the thought of eating the muffins Legolas brought and his brothers’ harsh words still lingering. It’s the way Legolas’ hands smooth over the swell of his belly, occasionally pressing; a small smile playing at his lips that decides it. His touch is tentative still, though Aragorn knows it drives the elf mad, he’s always finding some reason to pet the ever growing curve. 

“They smell delicious, though I don’t think I should eat them all lest I spoil my lunch.” This answer seems to please the elf who laughs softly. Aragorn eats through two muffins while reviewing the various contracts he’d set aside for Legolas to consider. Turning to his own the soft shuffle of parchment and scratch of quill soon fills the study as each set about their own stack of papers. The nagging hunger that had been growing in the back of Aragorn’s mind begins to creep back in as he reads over the papers before him and he’s soon reaching for another muffin without realizing it. Legolas however, notices every one the man reaches for. The papers he’s holding rustle loudly through the room when the man’s fingers scrabble across the empty plate searching for a muffin since eaten.  

Quickly dropping his eyes back to the papers before him, Legolas misses the sideways glance the man casts in his direction. His thoughts pulled thoroughly from his work, the man suddenly notices the aching fullness of his belly. Dropping a hand, he presses it against the side of his distended stomach, trying to surreptitiously rub soothing circles. Turning back to the papers before him, Aragorn tries once more to focus on his work. Not more than a half hour passes before Legolas can take it no more, the man’s incessant shifting pulling at his attention.

“Mayhaps we should go for a walk, get a fresh look at these papers before lunch?” Legolas offers, waiting to gain Aragorn’s attention he doesn’t miss the way Aragorn tries to casually reposition his arm so as not to draw attention to his discomfort.

“That sounds like a fine idea.” Legolas makes a show of straightening his papers after he’s risen as he waits for Aragorn to rise. Try as he might, Aragorn can’t stop the groan that escapes his lips as he pushes himself to his feet. Legolas’ head jerks up at the sound, face twisted in concern, “I’m fine. Just feel like I’ve got stones in my belly.” The man’s tone is wry and Legolas doesn’t stop the admiring glance down, noting how the tunic is now straining over the achingly full stomach. 

Watching as his husband comes around the side of the desk, Legolas slips his arm around the man’s thickening waist. “A walk should help that feeling.” His hand flutters at his side before he sets himself and gently runs his hand down the growing belly, beginning just under the breastbone where it starts its outward swell, over the large curve. Legolas resists the urge to press down and confirm the fullness, instead he allows himself the slightest pressure as he traces the curve. Aragorn lets out a groan, low in his throat at the pleasurable pain, cheeks burning. 

“Easy, Las.”

~ ~ ~

_ You were crowned in front of thousands and yet you fidget like a child at the thought of one man. _ Aragorn chastises himself, knowing his incessant shifting is the cause of the smirk upon his husband's lips. Legolas wraps his arm around the man's thick waist, resting his hand on his ample hip.

"It will be fine mellon nin." And for the briefest of moments Aragorn believes the elf, knowing that nothing Thranduil says could turn Legolas from him. The clatter of horse hooves and the first of Thranduil's party rides into the courtyard.

The man's calm is shattered when Legolas rests a proprietary hand on the crest of the man's belly; the arm still wrapped around his waist preventing him from stepping away. It's then that Thranduil arrives in the courtyard, regal as ever. His eyes easily find his son and Aragorn would swear he sees a smile tug the usually  pressed lips. Though his own grin quickly falls from his face as he watches Thranduil's gaze slide from his son to where his son's hand rests.

"Adar!" Legolas practically sprints down the steps, arriving just as his father finishes dismounting.  _ This can't go worse than with Ro and Dan. _ Aragorn thinks to himself, waiting a respectable distance behind as Legolas greets his father. In all honesty, he really is glad things have improved between the two, he knows their relationship hasn't always been on the best of terms. He just wishes those improvements could keep being made without his presence.

When it's his turn, Aragorn offers the traditional, formal greeting from one King to another and is thoroughly surprised when Thranduil briefly embraces him, reminiscent of his brothers' visit.  _ I will kill that elf. _ Crosses his mind as he sees the large grin of his husband over Thranduil's shoulder.

"You must be weary from your travels-" Before Legolas can finish Thranduil cuts him off.

"Never too weary for my Greenleaf. Come, it has been too long since I have seen you and I've no desire to wait until dinner." With that, Thranduil waits to be led to his chambers, Legolas shrugs at Aragorn before looping his arm through his father's waiting one, beginning to head inside.

_ I've been dismissed?  _ The man thinks to himself, trying to keep the spark of hope from showing. He doesn't have to try for long as the pair had just reached the top of the steps when Thranduil pauses, looking round.

"Estel. Will you not be joining us?" A large smile splits Legolas' face, having pleaded at his father more than once to  _ try _ to get along with his husband. Aragorn does his best to appear, well anything but what he's really feeling as he mounts the step and stands on Thranduil's opposite side.

Thranduil's chambers were situated in the family hall, modest rooms with chairs and a couch before the fireplace. As they enter, Thranduil pulls away and situates himself in the chair near the fire, while Legolas sidles up to Aragorn, slipping his arm around the man’s waist once more. Legolas had never been one to shy away from showing his affection for the ranger; if you asked Aragorn it only seemed to increase as his size did. Settling themselves on the couch across from Thranduil, Legolas presses himself close against the man's side, tangling their arms and fingers.

"Tell me, what is new." The silent command for a report.  _ Will he ever not see himself as King?  _ Legolas falls into easy conversation, filling in bits of story that weren't included in the letters they've exchanged.

"I wish you had been able to visit during the winter months. Estel had the idea to open the Halls to the town each month and they all gather for a feast." Aragorn watches as Thranduil's eyes slide to his, pointedly  _ not _ looking at the evidence of such feasts.

"It sounds like you found enjoyment in these."  _ Is that a question? At me? No? Las? An insult? _

"Mayhaps you can meet Lisbet and her family. They have the sweetest little girl..." Legolas trails off, glancing at the man beside him in confusion who is failing to stifle his laughter. Thranduil's eyebrow just raises.

"I do not think Ella would handle meeting the King of Greenwood well." Legolas thinks this over for a moment.

"Once I let her examine my ears she was rather taken with me. Or are you just afraid she might fall for another King?" Legolas teases, knowing how enamored the child had become with the man.

"You let a  _ human  _ child near your ears?" It's a sobering question and Aragorn can see the moment Legolas realizes what he's said in front of his father.

"She wouldn't have to examine your ears, unless you'd like a friend." The tone is light, but the meaning is there. Thranduil had not been keen on the idea that his son would live amongst the secondborn, though Legolas had made it perfectly clear he didn't take the same stance his father did. These were his people as much as the firstborn were.

"I think I shall like to meet this...Ella that has so captured you." Aragorn can feel the tension ease in his body as well as Legolas who misinterprets it as one of the pains that had plagued the man at the impending visit and brings a hand up to rest on the crest of the large swell, subconsciously rubbing small, soothing circles.

Aragorn doesn't miss the slight flicker of Thranduil's eyes downward at the movement, though is face remains impassive. Aragorn shoots Legolas a look, hoping to convey his silent plea.

Which he does. 

Only it's misinterpreted.

"We should let you freshen yourself before dinner. I fear we've kept you too long already." Legolas starts, turning back to his father. The look Thranduil fixes on the two starts a sudden sinking feeling in the man,  _ It's that dinner all over again when ada knew we weren't really tired we just wanted-No! We are  _ not _ thinking about  _ that  _ with his father in the room. _

With a nod, the implications of which Aragorn forces himself not to think about, Legolas rises with the man following close behind automatically. Once they're in the hall, door tightly shut and many paces behind them, Legolas pulls the man to the side.

"Are you well? Adar will understand if you don't attend dinner." The concern he sees shining in those blue eyes that study his face so carefully has the man forgetting any other thought besides reassuring the elf.

"I'm well, truly." The elf watches him closely, searching for signs of deception. Legolas nods to himself, setting his mind on something that Aragorn's not aware of yet. With that they set off back down the hall

Upon reaching their chambers, Aragorn settles himself behind the small desk tucked in the corner, used only for the most pressing of matters. Hoping to occupy his mind before dinner he begins flipping through the various parchment before him but is pulled from his thoughts when Legolas appears at his side, the familiar scent of mint filling his senses.

"It should help." Glancing up curiously at the elf, Aragorn is reminded once again of the bond they share. Love and concern, so earnestly upon the elf's face. Rising, Aragorn takes the proffered mug, pressing a kiss in thanks. Wrapping his arm around the elf''s narrow hips, he guides them to the couch, pulling Legolas down with him.

"Hannon le." The man murmurs, drinking deep from the tea. Legolas leans against him, his hand fluttering at his side for a moment before it slips beneath the bottom of the tunic, cool fingers trailing across heated skin. Nimble fingers trace the velvety stretch marks that ribbon across the man’s ample hips and belly. They stay like that, Legolas biding his time.

“If you were unwell, you should’ve said something, adar would understand.” Legolas starts again.

“It is nothing, Las. When did you learn to make such tea?” The man asks, hoping to change the subject.

“I’ve watched you many a year. Do you not think I would learn something?” Legolas’ tone a mock of hurt.

“Learning how to make something and learning how to make something  _ well _ are two very different things.” The man hides his smile behind the last swallow of tea.

“I’ll show you some things I’ve learned  _ well _ .” Legolas plucks the cup from the man’s hands, gracefully straddling the man’s hips. 

~ ~ ~

Aragorn announces their special guest prior to the start of the feast; The hall hums with the sound of excited murmurs as Thranduil makes his regal way to the head table; enjoying the attention as all heads in the hall turn, though his face remains passive as he takes a seat next to his son.

“Lisbet and her family are here, adar. If you would like I can introduce you later.” Legolas offers, leaning closer to his father, keeping his voice low. Thranduil nods, remembering his promise to his son. 

Having little interest in the food before him, Thranduil takes to watching Legolas and doesn’t miss the way his son keeps an eye on Aragorn’s plate, surreptitiously pressing his hand to the side of his husband’s belly before he casually adds more. While Thranduil doesn’t track how many times he catches this little ritual of his sons, he notices the last time when Legolas catches Aragorn’s eye after running his hand along the swell. Seeing something, Legolas turns back to his plate, letting his hand rest high on the man’s thigh rather than refilling the dish. It’s not long after that Legolas turns to Thranduil.

“You’ll have to excuse us, adar. It is traditional that we lead the first dance.” Thranduil raises his eyebrows at this, surprised at a shared tradition, before nodding his understanding. Legolas turns to Aragorn, prompting the man to rise and lead him onto the floor in front of the head table. 

“Sure you remember the steps?” Legolas teases softly, sensing the man’s uneasiness; Aragorn offers a tense smile back. It’d been many months since the last opening dance and though the steps are familiar, the broad belly between them isn’t. Aragorn tries to keep his distance in the opening steps but Legolas is having none of it. Dropping his hand to the thick roll of the man’s hip that overhangs his leggings, Legolas uses it and the hand on his shoulder to pull Aragorn close, the man flushing as his ample stomach presses into the elf’s lean one. 

“Legolas Thranduilion.” The elf’s eyes flash, surprised at the use of his name.

"Mayhaps you have you forgotten the steps?" Legolas teases the man, noticing his hesitance.

"After being taught by Dan and Ro? No one's learned faster."

"Is this what's troubling you?" With that, Legolas briefly tightens his grip on the man’s plush hip, Aragorn squirming in his grasp, making his discomfort known. 

"Soon you'll be so big your belly will drag across the bed when I take you." The elf's voice little more than a growl, a dangerous smirk upon his lips. Aragorn flushes, eyes scanning the room,  _ A hope or a promise, my Prince? _

"Las." His name a reprimand that does nothing to deter the elf.

"No one can hear us. And what if they did? Let them know I can't keep my hands off you. _That I serve my King_." Aragorn swallows hard at the words, willing his body to stand down and not drag Legolas to their chambers that very moment. Relieved the dance draws to a close, the feeling of the elf's body curved against the man’s becoming more than he could stand. With a final squeeze of  his generous hip, applause fills the hall and Legolas presses a kiss to his husband’s lips before they turn and gesture with open arms for others to take the floor. 

Slowly couples drift onto the floor and Thranduil watches as someone calls Aragorn’s name, pulling his attention. Spying the caller in the crowd, Aragorn briefly says something to Legolas before making his way from the floor. Thranduil watches as Legolas turns, headed back towards him when he spies a small child weaving her way through the couples moving about the floor. When she’s just a few feet from his son, she launches herself; Legolas turning at the last moment, catching her and swinging her into the air. Thranduil can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips as her peals of laughter fill the hall. 

Scanning the room, Legolas spots Lisbet hastily making their way toward them, a scold on her lips; Alwyn trailing behind. 

“Ella!” Knowing she’s been caught, Ella tries to hide herself in the curtain of Legolas’ hair, drawing a laugh from the elf as he waits for the girl’s mother to reach them. “What have I told you about running off.” Lisbet starts as soon as she reaches them, before turning to Legolas, “I’m so sorry. She was so excited to see you both-

“We could hardly keep ‘er at the table.” Alwyn cuts in, earning himself an exasperated look from Lisbet. 

“It’s a shame she’s disappeared again, our special guest was so hoping to meet her.” Legolas tries to keep the laughter from his voice, though he can’t keep the smile from his face. No sooner has he spoken the words than Ella reappears in a violent swish of Legolas’ hair with a large grin. “There you are! I have someone very special who would like to meet you.” Legolas explains, laughing. 

Thranduil has already made his way around the head table and waits, enjoying the rare sight of a child on his son’s hip. Spying his father, Legolas leads the small group that way, trying to keep his anxiety from showing.

“Adar, these are the friends we told you about.” Legolas starts, stepping aside and gesturing in turn, “Lisbet, Alwyn, may I present Thranduil, King of Greenwood.” Sometimes,  _ just sometimes _ , Thranduil despises his son’s antics. Thranduil watches as the woman suddenly pinks, dropping her eyes and sketching a curtsy while her husband bows, their nerves setting the child restless in Legolas’ arms. 

“Please, my son is too formal.” Thranduil says, giving his son a  _ look _ that Legolas carefully pretends to not notice.

“And this is Ella.” The little girl had pressed herself back against Legolas, keeping her mother in the corner of her eye.  Thranduil smiles at the small child; it’d been so long since he’d been around one he can’t quite recall how to put them at ease. 

“It’s ok, Ella. That’s Legolas’ father.” Lisbet smiles encouragingly at her daughter as Thranduil waits, an indulgent smile on his face. Ella studies Thranduil for a long moment, still pressing herself back against Legolas before she slowly stretches out her little arm and pets the King’s long, blonde hair before doing the same to Legolas and giving Thranduil a gap toothed smile.

“Looks like you have some competition.” Alwyn says laughing, nudging the Prince. 

“Mayhaps.” Legolas smiles good naturedly between Alwyn and his father.

“My son has told me a lot about your family.” Thranduil opens, turning towards Lisbet and Alwyn. Lisbet flushes a nervous smile as she tries to wave off the comment.

“Let us sit and catch up, it’s been months since we’ve had the pleasure.” Legolas offers. And so, like all those months ago, benches are pulled around and the small group circles themselves as they settle in for conversation.

Settling herself in the elf’s lap, Ella begins tracing the braids that crown Legolas’ head. “She’s become quite taken with you. Insists I do her hair like yours.” Lisbet says, apology in her tone. Legolas offers a reassuring smile as he looks down, noting the simple strands twined together on either head of the child’s head.

“It took me years to learn these braids.” Legolas explains to Lisbet before catching Ella’s eye, “Would you like some braids like mine?” Ella glances at her mother for permission before nodding her head so enthusiastically she nearly clacks Legolas’ teeth together. As Legolas’ nimble fingers begin unworking the braids in Ella’s hair Alwyn starts chatting with Thranduil in such an easy manner Legolas finds himself eyeing his father’s reaction from the corner of his eye. If Thranduil is deterred by this human’s forwardness, he doesn't it let it show. Taking the questions of his people and lands all in stride.

“Legolas, have you told these people nothing of your home?” 

“I have adar, mayhaps he just enjoys hearing your version.” Legolas doesn’t get very far before a familiar voice cuts in.

“You never braid my hair.” Legolas turns toward the sound of his husband’s voice, embarrassed he hadn't noticed him approaching, only to be met with a delicious site. Aragorn’s heavy belly is eye level with Legolas, providing the elf with a good view of the wide belly filing his vision, only emphasized by the man’s crossed arms resting atop it.  as he raises his eyes to meet Aragorn’s.

“By all means, Estel.” Legolas says cheekily, patting his other knee; suppressing the shivers that trail down his spine at what the man’s quirked eyebrow promises. 

“Don’t let me interrupt.” Aragorn says, waving for the group to continue as he lowers himself to the bench next to Legolas. Having noted his arrival, Ella is all too happy when Legolas turns her to face the man and begin braiding the other side of her hair. It’s not long before Legolas is done and Ella situates herself between them on the bench, carefully tracing her braids.

The conversation is stilted at first, Alwyn and Lisbet’s nervousness clear; though a few cups of wine help to loosen Alwyn’s tongue. The group is momentarily distracted when the dessert platters are brought out; large trays of sweets scattered on tables throughout the Hall for the guests. Ella is eager to help, much to Lisbet’s embarrassment as she watches her daughter precariously stand and clamber back and forth over Legolas, passing out sweets.

“I’m so sorry, she’s been helpin’ me in the kitchen-Ella!” Lisbet rises, intending to collect her daughter who’s happily trampling the Prince once more.

“She’s fine.” Legolas waves off Lisbet, steadying the wobbly child as she stumbles across his lap once more. 

“Hannon le.”  Legolas says when it’s his turn, the unfamiliar words give Ella pause, though not for long as she settles herself down to mangle her own sweet. Sensing it coming Legolas preempts his father’s scolding, “I have adar, she is but young.” 

The conversation picks up once more, Alwyn’s wine-loosed tongue posing questions to Thranduil; which he takes in good humor much to the Prince’s relief.. Legolas pays only periphery attention to Ella, steadying her when he fears she’ll fall or politely declining her insistent attempts at handing him another sweet.

Legolas' attention is drawn to the man when the familiar shifting begins, trying to make enough room for his packed belly. Forcing his gaze away, he tries to turn his thoughts back to the conversation surrounding him. It's not long before his attention is pulled once more, a flicker of movement pulling his gaze automatically; catching  the man as he press the heel of his hand into his immense stomach, dragging it deep.  _ Will you beg me to be gentle when I take you tonight?  _  Aragorn’s taunting  smile and raised eyebrows bring the elf back to himself and he quickly looks away, only to meet his father's knowing gaze. Legolas suddenly feels like an elfling having been caught. Watching as  his father's gaze slides pointedly to the object of distraction Legolas feels himself go cold.  _ Elbereth! He  _ knows. Thranduil's eyes shift back to his sons with an expression Legolas can’t decipher.  _ He's never been one to hold his tongue. _ ..h _ e wouldn't bring it up in front of company. It's unbecoming of a King- _ Legolas tries to reassure himself, but Ella's laughter cuts that thought short, as Legolas sees Aragorn gently push her hand away.

"I’ve had quite enough lass." Ella's arm jabs her offering at Aragorn once more, jerking in its insistence.

"Elladin!" Lisbet's sharp tone freezes the girl, heading turning only enough to eye her mother. "I'm so sorry, she's usually...I try to-"

"Children are hard to contain. This one was especially adept at it." Thranduil tries to assuage Lisbet, turning a raised brow in Legolas' direction. Normally, this uncharacteristic act would have captured Legolas’ attention if his mind wasn’t already stuck on the conversation unfolding before him.

"You're name is...Elladin?" The man asks, leaning down as far as his  heavy belly allows. Ella drops her arm before giving a solemn nod. Aragorn meets Legolas' gaze over her head, biting his lip to contain the laughter, though it does nothing for the large grin spreading there. "That's a lovely name." As though that were all the invitation she needed, Ella abandons her offering and begins trying to reclaim her seat in the man's vanishing lap.

"Oh no, I think ye've stirred enough trouble for one night." Lisbet announces, wrapping her arm around Ella's wriggling waist and drawing her back. "It was wonderful meetin’ you, your grace. We're grateful for your son, he's so kind and done so much good around town. Ella has become so taken with the two of them, I don't know what we'd do without them." It's only years of court training that prevents Legolas from shifting in embarrassment.

"You have a lovely family. My son has always been adept at acquiring worthy friends." No amount of training could've prepared them, as Aragorn and Legolas sit there, momentarily stunned. Lisbet curtsies as well as she can trying to keep hold of Ella. Seeing her mother's odd behavior, Ella is quick to imitate, giggling all the while. Alwyn offers his hand, Thranduil lost at the human gesture until he witnesses Aragorn and then Legolas complete the common gesture.

Legolas and Aragorn briefly watch the small family make their way through the crowded hall before turning back to Thranduil, a look on his face neither can decipher.

"I won't keep you either." Thranduil waves off Legolas' protests, "You have responsibilities and there will be plenty of time for us tomorrow." Thranduil levels  _ that look _ at them again, before briefly embracing his son and inclines a nod to Aragorn.

“That went...well?” Aragorn remarks as they watch as the elf king strides regally from the hall; drawing the attention of all those still present.

“Yes, adar seemed to like Ella.” Legolas agreed, slightly distracted as he turned the nights events over in his mind. “We should make the rounds." 

"It  _ is _ expected of us.” The man’s rueful tone pulling Legolas from his musings.

"Estel, are you well? You've never been one to shy from your people." Turning concerned eyes on his husband, he notes the absent way he's pressed a hand hand against his generous curve.

"Between you and Ella is a very dangerous place to be." Legolas steps close and places a hand on either side of the swelled stomach, gently rubbing circles..

"Mayhaps we can be brief..." Legolas trails off, letting his hands briefly drift lower. The answering smirk nearly has Legolas dragging the man from the floor. Instead, Aragorn presses a nearly bruising kiss to the elfs lips before turning away and beginning to thread his way through the tables. Brief it would be.

~ ~ ~

Legolas tries, he really does, as he drifts from group to group but his eyes can’t help but stray back to his husband. His final undoing is when he catches the man pressing his knuckle into the strained muscle of his back. Memories of all those months ago when Aragorn had just started to gain weight, the belly small compared to now, has Legolas nearly tripping as he makes his way towards the man. 

As though sensing the incoming elf, Aragorn has turned from the group and begins ambling through the tables toward the doors, turning only when he hears footsteps behind him. 

“Think we’ve-” Aragorn stops short when he catches sight of the elf, usually known for his composure, Legolas’ eyes are blown wide with need.  _ I will make you regret that smirk, Estel, _ Legolas swears to himself. Lacing their fingers, Legolas begins weaving their way across the mostly empty Hall, slowing only when they reach the hallway and Aragorn’s hand slips from his. Turning back he’s met with a most delicious sight, having noticed his husband’s attention the man tries to regain his usual swagger only to be  hindered by his waddle, heavy belly leading the way. Legolas prowls back to the man and when he’s close enough Aragorn pins him to the wall, kissing along his jaw and down his neck.

“We haven’t...done this...in years.” Legolas can barely get the thought out, the feel of the man’s tight belly pinning him as burises are sucked into his jawline pulling his attention.

“Made out in a hallway.” The words are muffled as Aragorn doesn’t fully cease his ministrations. 

“You were...fifteen…” Those words have the man rearing back, a sudden fear in his eyes.

“And your father caught us.” Aragorn finishes, recalling the memory of a very unhappy Thranduil looming over the two entwined lovers in his hallway. The absurdity settles over the momentary fear and laughter soon fills the space between them. Though neither are daring enough to continue, Legolas laces their fingers once more and the pair quickly make their way to their chambers.

It’s hard to say who is happier to be within their chambers as Legolas presses himself against the man’s back, hands sliding under the tunic, hands full of the man’s ample hips.

“Getting rather heavy.” Legolas purrs in his ear as he slides his hands down the soft curve of the man’s stomach, lifting the heavy belly. Aragorn makes a noise low in his throat, feeling the elf’s excitement straining against him. Legolas’ deft hands undo the ties holding the man’s leggins, relishing how they cling to the man’s legs where they’d once been pooling at their feet. Never letting his hands leave the man’s body, Legolas moves around to the front, fingers trailing the generous curves. Nimble fingers free the man’s stomach from the straining tunic, the elf’s cool hands soothing on the heated flesh. Aragorn doesn’t realize he’s pressing into his husband’s touch until the low growl from Legolas fills the chamber. Hands roaming, Legolas presses a kiss to the man’s lips, rough in its urgency before he’s dropping to his knees, skimming the leggins off as he goes. 

“I best serve my King.” Legolas breathes, gazing at Aragorn over the sweeping plain of his stomach. The man’s member, leaking in anticipation, begs for attention and Legolas answers. Starting at the base, he strokes one finger down its length, relishing the shivers that rock the man.

“Get the oil.” Legolas smirks at his husband’s husky plea. Fingers trailing up the man as he goes, Legolas rises. The last sight Legolas sees is Aragorn sliding the tunic off his shoulders before he steps into the bathing chamber, his lust hazed mind struggling to recall where the vial of oil had gotten to. 

“You’ll have to be gentle, meleth nin.” The man’s call bring a smirk to the elf’s lips as he recalls the last time the man had this full,  _ Always so demanding Estel. Mayhaps I desire you to take me tonight...the feel of your belly on-  _ The sight that greets the elf as he steps from the bathing chamber sends those thoughts from his mind. Aragorn is waiting on the bed for him, the light from the full moon  setting  his tanned skin glowing. That’s not what stops the elf though, on all fours in the middle of the bed, the man’s back is bowed by the weight of his belly as it rests on the mattress. In all his years as a warrior, in all that he’s faced, never once has the elf felt the weakness that consumes him now as his next steps nearly bring him to his knees. 

Concern replaces the nervous anticipation on the ranger’s face as he watches the graceless dip in his husbands steps and moves to aid him. “ _ Don’t _ .” Legolas licks his lips, having regained some control of himself, he’s nearly undone by the groan that escapes the man’s lips as his carefully arranged position protests the sudden movement. Legolas admires the sight before him, eyes trailing over each delicious curve of his husband, made all the sharper by moonlight shadows. 

When he can stand the sight no longer, when his fingers curl at his sides, Legolas goes to his King.

Easily disrobing his mind trips over all the ways he wishes to take the man.  _ I wish to taste-feel the way your body-how many handfuls…. _ Legolas presses his dripping cock against the man, smoothing his hands up the man’s back as he curves himself over until he’s laying the length of the man. He lets his arms trail down the softening arms, fingers squeezing until they find the muscle within, continuing on over the soft breasts that sway with the motion, a soft squeeze eliciting a moan from the man. Legolas traces the sweeping curve of the man’s stomach, breath hitching when his fingers are met with bed clothes. Legolas enjoys the shivers that wrack Aragorn’s body as his wandering fingers continue, trailing over the sensitive underbelly slick with the man’s anticipation. Aragorn grinds himself  into Legolas the moment the elf’s hand grasps his length, earning a low growl from Legolas as his full length is taken.

It’s not long before Legolas’ sense are blown wide. The little grunts that escape the man, a noise he’s only recently started to make and the rasp of Aragorn’s ponderous belly bringing him to completion as he thinks,  _ You will be tender tomorrow from where your belly rubs.  _ Spasming at the sudden release, Legolas has a near bruising grip on the man’s luscious hips as he spills his seed, breaths ragged. Absently, Legolas runs his hands up the man’s sides, his lust clouded mind stealing all other thoughts. The night’s quiet musings bring him back to himself, just enough that he fetches a cloth, hastily cleaning them both before easing the man onto his side, relishing the loosed limbs that only come from satiation .

~ ~ ~

He’d woken tangled with the elf  and enjoyed staying that way as long as he could before they’d had to depart; Legolas to Thranduil and Aragorn to pressing issues. As Aragorn approaches Thranduil's chambers his mind can't help but turn back to the last time he was looking for Legolas who had lost track of time while talking. The low murmur of voices could be heard and though the man knows it hadn't ended in his favor the last time, the undefinable way of knowing you're the topic of conversation draws him forward.

"-looks...well." Thranduil's crisp voice carries easily, causing the man to wince.  _ Will I never cease to be the topic of conversation? _ Legolas lets the words hang in the air, panic creeping into the man.

"Just say it, adar." Legolas' voice has an edge to it that tugs at the man's lips, threatening a smile as he imagines the pursed looked Thranduil is sure to be wearing. The silence drags on so long Aragorn thinks the elf King won't answer.

"You are happy with him being... _ very well _ ?"  _ He's never liked me anyway so what does it matter?  _ Though the man could never admit it directly to himself, he understood the reason Elrohir and Elladan’s comments had hurt so much: they were his family.

"I am and we are." There's another pause and the man wishes he could see into the room, see the expressions trapped in the pause. "It is rare that you don't speak your mind and simply unheard of when it pertains to me." Legolas' voice finally breaks the silence. The next sound is so unfamiliar it takes him a moment to realize it's Thranduil laughing.

"Mayhaps you did gain something from those years I made you attend court." The laughter is gone from his voice with his next words, "It is my understanding of the  humans that such a... _ wellness  _  shortens their-"

"Adar." The word is sharp.

"I just want you happy, Greenleaf." Thranduil's words hold no malice. 

“I am adar. Truly.” 

“Then my mind is eased. I see you’ve also solved the problem of an heir. I imagine-” Aragorn never does get to hear what Thranduil imagines as Legolas’ near yelp cuts him off.

“ _ What heir _ ?” The silence that follows is nearly more than the man can handle as he turns over the words in his mind, barely containing the surprised laugh that threatens.

“Elladin.” The name sounds scandalized,, as Thranduil is shocked at his son’s ineptitude.

“Ella is not-you think Estel-.” The man wishes he could see the look on his husband’s face as he sounds the most unprincely he’s ever heard, spluttering half finished sentences.

“Forgive me. With how close you are and you haven’t asked for the-.” 

“We haven’t discussed heirs, adar. I doubt he’s aware they’re even a possibility for us.” Aragorn is startled by Legolas interrupting his father, something he’s never heard in all their joined years. The silence that follows makes the man uneasy, the hallway suddenly filled with too many thoughts beyond his own.  _ Possibility? I will have to find a way to speak of this with him. Soon.  _

“Should the occasion arise, Greenleaf, you only need ask.” The words spoken in a tone so kind it makes Aragorn ache for Elrond. 

Struggling to collect himself in the remaining steps to the door, Aragorn hopes the two within aren’t so distracted they don’t hear him approach.

“I seem to be late.” Aragorn hears Legolas say when Aragorn is mere feet from the door only for it to open, Legolas standing there, an apology in his smile. 

“I don’t mean to-” Aragorn doesn’t get a chance to continue as Thranduil appears behind Legolas.

“Come, Estel, won’t you join us.” Only Aragorn sees the look of surprise that crosses Legolas’ face. Thranduil’s tone no longer holds the cool reserve he’s used with the man for years, it’s nearly the tone he uses with Legolas, though not as fond. Thranduil returns to his chair, not waiting for a response so he misses the look shared between two lovers. Lacing their fingers, Legolas leads Aragorn into the room, reminiscent of Thranduil’s arrival as they once more resume their position on the couch. Only this time, when Legolas pulls the man close to his side, the distaste, Aragorn can finally name the look, is gone from the elven King’s features. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that ends it. I hope you liked it. I'm sorry if it disappointed. I kinda left it open for a sequel there at the end, but it would go in a slightly different direction...thoughts, comments or random outbursts appreciated.   
> As noted above, I'm really sorry for the delay and have a way of making it up to you...I hope. I have a one-shot that's been languishing on my computer. It's a bit different, this time it's reversed and we get to see a kinda chubby Legolas with some hurt/comfort thrown in for feels. I will give it a final pass tonight and have it up tonight or tomorrow (with or without a title).

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making it this far!  
> My LoTR lore is shaky so please let me know anything that doesn't jive.  
> I'd love to hear from you so I know whether to share the next bit or just trash this.


End file.
